Heaven's Child ≫ SPN

24.1

I broke into a sprint down the hall, my stomach churning nervously. I had to ask for directions twice before I found the counselor's office.

"Sam?" I asked hesitantly, closing the door behind me. My eyes landed at the center of the room where he was sitting at his desk. His chair was turned away from me at first but when he spun around, all I saw was the red that was splattered all over his pants.

"Oh my god." I immediately closed the space between us and squatted down, inspecting his injury. "The hell happened?"

His left pant leg was torn to shreds at his ankle all the way up to his mid-calf. The wound looked like four knives slashed his leg. A claw. He was still oozing blood and his socks were a bright red. Sam was holding a ball of stained tissues in his hand, but even that wasn't enough to stop the bleeding.

"Something attacked me. I wanted the case folder from the car—ah!" He sucked in a sharp breath. I was removing cloth that was stuck to the cuts.

"Why?"

"The victims—save the girls, the guys were all on the same team. And according to the yearbook, there's still two players left the kidnappers didn't snatch."

"Did you see what did this to you?" I pushed, not taking my concentration off his ankle.

"Couldn't tell—ow!—I shot it once before it got away."

"You shot a bullet in the school parking lot?" I scolded, finally looking up. He was wearing a twisted grimace, his shirt was tight around his chest because he was so tense and his hair was clamped to his sweaty face.

"What else did you want me to do? Ouch! Stop doing that!" He hissed the last part through clenched teeth.

"Your pants are stuck to your wound, I have to clean it to start the healing," I explained apologetically, trying to work quicker.

"Not—eugh!—why I called you. Where's Dean?"

"Back in the kitchen. Apparently, orange juice is expensive and it's making the kids fat." I stood up and pumped some hand sanitizer into my hand off of Sam's desk and started cleaning off my warding sigil. I knew Sam was giving me a look but I wasn't paying attention to him to see what it was.

When I put my hand on his leg, he cringed away from me. "I'm sorry. The worst part should be almost over." The healing process always sucked.

But then a knock sounded at the door. My wide eyes immediately flicked to Sam and he returned the expression.

"Who the hell is that?"

"I don't know, but you have to leave," he whispered back, eyes on the door.

"I'm going to need at least fifteen minutes with this!" I gestured my bloodied hands to his even bloodier leg.

"Mr.Tristan?"

"It's the principal," he hissed.

"I can't leave, I have to heal you! You're bleeding to death, don't you think she's going to notice that?"

Another knock."Are you in?"

"Okay," Sam whispered, putting both hands on my shoulders.

"Wha—" I started, but Sam shoved my crouched body under his desk.

"Perfect," I muttered flatly. I was sitting sideways so that his long knee was touching my shoulder. "It's too dark." I told him, looking at his knees with so much annoyance.

But Sam ignored me and I heard him say, "Come in!"

I put a hand on his wound again, even though I could barely see anything. Then I started working slowly for his and my own benefit.